


Not For Self

by drast



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-04-14
Updated: 2015-04-14
Packaged: 2018-03-22 23:24:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,133
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3747430
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/drast/pseuds/drast
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Clarke attends a Liberal Arts College in Annapolis, Maryland and needs a proper subject. Lexa plays Soccer for the U.S. Naval Academy. They meet, they date, and they don't talk for months. Then one night Clarke is upset and all she can see are green eyes and a number on her wrist. Lexa answers the call she had been hoping for and things pick up from there.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Not For Self

She zoomed in on the white net, the way it contrasted the surrounding trees, how it rippled with the wind. The rest of the stadium fell away and all she saw was the sun touching the tips of the grass.

Until a very painful force assaulted the side of her head.

“Hey, shit, I’m sorry! I said heads up…” Clarke rubbed her head, looking up to where the voice was coming from.

She squinted at the girl fully decked out in Under Armour gear, including the Navy branded blue jersey. Their eyes met and for a second Clarke was looking through a lens again, the rest of the world falling away.

The Navy girl cleared her throat, “Uh so…you alive?” a blush crept across the other girls cheeks, as if she wasn’t used to being under someone else’s intense gaze.

“Yeah!” Clarke yelped, embarrassed at being caught, “Yes, I mean, I think. Probably just a bruise.” She flashed the other girl a smile, eyes meeting again. Eyes that were so delicately green and soft, even as they narrowed.

Navy rubbed her neck, “Good. Maybe don’t stand behind the net.” Even though the other girl’s posture had become stiffer her eyes remained soft, full of emotion.

It made Clarke grin, “This is where the best view is.” She raked her eyes over the other girl, containing the giggle that threatened to overcome her. Maybe she was concussed. 

“You…uh…right. You’re not from the Academy, are you?” The other girl narrowed her eyes, “Only students and staff are allowed on the field.”

“Relax, I’m from SJC, have a visitor pass and everything.” Clarke fingered the lanyard around her neck. But Navy ignored the pass, eyes glued on Clarkes lips. 

It did not go unnoticed. 

“Fine. Just pay attention. Pretty sure you’re here to take pictures of the game, not the grass.”

Clarke finally stood, annoyed when she realized Pretty Navy Girl was a good two inches taller still.

“Whatever you say Commander BossyPants.” Clarke winked at her, deciding she definitely had a concussion.

Navy gave her an odd look, a cross between flustered and annoyed. Huffing she turned away and jogged back to her team. They were in the process of warming up for what was apparently the game of the season. 

Seemed like any other boring game to Clarke, but she needed the pictures for her project and St. John’s College had the most dull athletics program. Which was fine, it was a liberal arts school, but her assignment was bodies in motion and the guys on the croquet team had spent one too many days binge drinking. Not a very pretty picture. So here she was, taking pictures of the Naval Academy’s women’s soccer team. 

As much as she hated sports, girls playing sports, really fit navy girls playing sports, might change her mind. The way their muscles would flex making their bodies transform from soft and gentle to rock hard forces to be reckoned with. She sighed. This assignment was turning into some pervy stalker picture taking.  
When the game started Clarke immediately found her attacker. Number 12. She’s extra intense on the field, the way she handles herself. The glare she throws the referee as he yells at her to stop arguing.

Clarke could definitely get used to women’s soccer.

She’s captured hundreds of photos by the time the second half starts and the sun sets so she abandons her project and just watches the game without a lens. It really is an impressive sport, the way they manipulate the ball with only their feet. The way their muscles dance with every impact. She forgets about the ball and is completely absorbed the Pretty Navy Girl. Her brown braid bounces on her back as she runs. Her bottom lip worried between her teeth every time she receives the ball. 

Again, for a second time that day, a ball is flying at her head at an unnatural speed. She manages to duck out of the way just barely. Pretty Navy Girl shoots her a very pointed smirk. Clarke thinks it may be the sexiest thing she’s ever seen.

The game goes on without much excitement. Boston University wins 2-1, which wasn’t really a surprise. Even Clarke knew what to expect. Boston always beat Navy. The players mutter good games as they move off the field and start heading toward the locker rooms. 

To Clarke’s delight, Pretty Navy Girl is making her way directly to Clarke, a small grin playing on her lips.  
Clarke smiles bright, she knows she looks ridiculous, but this girl is gorgeous and athletic and there is sweat running down her neck…she shakes her head clean of the dirty thoughts.

“Hey, nice game!” they’re standing almost toe to toe, personal space apparently forgotten.

Navy bobs her head in agreement, “Thanks, glad you didn’t die of boredom.” That grin is back. Navy knows Clarke is not a sports person. She knows that Clarke wouldn’t know a good game from a bad. “I’m Lexa, by the way.” She offers her hand to Clarke and Clarke can’t help but chuckle. Of course a Navy girl is all about formality.

“Clarke,” she says taking Lexa’s hand, “It’s a pleasure to officially meet you.” 

They’re both smiling now. Soft and genuinely. 

“I should catch up with my team, tough loss and everything.” She gestures toward the scoreboard and Clarke just nods stupidly. “But I was thinking maybe I owe you a drink, for the whole hitting you with a soccer ball thing.” And now Lexa was looking anywhere but at Clarke, her nervousness radiating off of her. 

“Maybe you do.” Clarkes grin is infectious apparently because now Lexa is looking at her, confidence back and a smile on her lips. 

“Cool, do you have a pen?” 

Clarke raises an eyebrow but reaches for the pen in the front of her bag. She hands it to Lexa who takes it and Clarke’s arm. The ink quickly spreads across her wrist, but all Clarke can feel are the warm slender fingers gently keeping her still. They’re so close Clarke can smell grass and sweat and it is probably the most comforting least attractive thing she’s ever smelled. Lexa finishes and her eyes bore into Clarke, searching for something. 

“Call me sometime.” It’s not a question. More of a affirmation. Lexa’s telling her she wants her to call, she looks forward to it.

So Clarke blushes at the contact of Lexa’s hand, the deepness of the green in her eyes, the thoughts that are swirling around her head.

“I will.” She breathes out and Lexa smiles, barely, but so beautifully Clarke forgets her name. And then Lexa’s jogging off throwing one last glance at Clarke before disappearing inside a building.

Those damn Navy girls.


End file.
